


hapless to return

by sciencebluefeelings



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, M/M, Merpeople, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23298634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencebluefeelings/pseuds/sciencebluefeelings
Summary: Jim catches a beautiful mer, and with it the prospect of instant and lavish profit. He chooses to care for the mer instead.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock Prime
Comments: 16
Kudos: 53





	hapless to return

The entire wooden hull strains from the sudden load. 

Jim starts from his half-asleep state and leaps to his feet, eyes focused on his first catch of the day. The net is threatening to break from where it is attached to the boat. Whatever it is that’s been caught, it’s large, heavy and desperately thrashing. Jim grits his teeth against the salt water splashing everywhere and hauls up the seemingly endless net with gloved hands.

The dull cloudy light catches a sharp sparkle of bright blue and red, and Jim’s heart stutters. By the time Jim manages to bring the catch onto the deck, the creature has been completely exhausted, motionless and gasping in the tangle of ropes and netting.

It’s a mer. Jim’s mind goes blank. He pulls the net further from the side of the boat, ignoring the cries of pain as he drags the net, mer and all, down to the lower deck. Jim carries a single dusty mer detainment tank on his boat, a tub full of restraints he thought he’d never use. 

The other fisherman had pressured him to keep one. _You never know_ , they’d said.

Jim deposits the mer inside the dusty tank, fastening the wrist and tail cuffs awkwardly around the terribly knotted netting before snapping the muzzle over the mer's face. Jim stares down at his captive with a heaving chest.

The mer does not struggle anymore. His arms are limp where they are stretched above his head, and his eyes are closed in defeat. He’s probably an older mer, based on the maturing Jim can see in his fins. His soaked silver grey hair is barely mussed despite the fierce struggle. Jim’s fishing net isn’t designed for catching mer, and the mer has been badly hurt. Jim grimaces at the scrapes he had caused in his haste to bring the mer below the top deck.

The mer’s fins are lacy thin, striking and gorgeous. Jim’s never seen a mer that looks like this in any of the warehouses, in any of the store fronts. It's an absolutely gorgeous specimen. Even with the damage, Jim could easily sell this mer for three-hundred double-coins, more than three year's worth of wages. The money would be plenty for Jim to get the fuck out from this godforsaken island.

Jim sighs and slowly gets to his feet again. He checks to see if the absolute mess of the fish net is choking the mer or cutting off circulation anywhere. Then Jim removes his gloves and locates his cleanest five gallon bucket. He moves to begin filling the tank with fresh ocean water, a bucketful at a time.

The mer twitches slightly, feeling the introduction of water to his dulling scales, but he does not open his eyes. Jim turns the detainment tank’s temperature regulation on and feels the small filter begin to hum. It’s a cheap tank, and he’ll have to change the water daily for optimal conditions. Most mer traffickers probably wouldn’t even bother.

Jim finds his toolkit and places another bucket upside down as a makeshift stool. He settles next to the tank and begins the painstaking process of untangling the net from the mer. It’s his only net and livelihood, and he can’t afford to buy another one right now.

The thought drifts through his mind, to cut the net loose and sell the mer already. He doesn’t need this net one second longer, he has the money to buy his ticket to freedom.

Jim focuses on his net again, freeing a large bunched up section. The labor is painstaking and slow. The sun is setting by the time Jim reaches the end of the net, where it is most severely tangled around the mer’s torso and tail. Jim had given up in several places already and cut the net apart to free the mer’s limbs. The net is about half the size it used to be, and it was not a particularly large net to begin with. 

Jim shakes his head as he pulls the net up to the top deck, hastily fixing it to the boat and rebaiting it before throwing it back over the side. He doesn’t want to think about what would happen if he returned to the port empty-handed.

He double checks the net before returning to the lower deck again to stare at the gorgeous mer. The mer hasn’t moved his position much since Jim last saw him, but his eyes are open now, tracking Jim’s every movement. The mer's eyes are a brilliant, rich dark brown hue.

The mer focuses from Jim to its tank. He carefully feels the extent of the cuffs and chained muzzle keeping him pinned to the detainment tank. Jim swallows and turns his attention to the mer’s injuries. His bruises are dark and his cuts are still bleeding, melting into the water. There's a particularly nasty cut right over the mer's cheek, half obscured by the muzzle.

Jim opens the medical aid kit nearby and finds the waterproof antibiotic ointment. The mer freezes when Jim carefully extends a hand, but does not make any moves to retaliate. The mer allows Jim to spread the gel over a wound on his bicep, but doesn’t relax even as Jim finishes coating the last of the nicks on the tail. Jim proceeds to unroll the multipurpose gauze and cover the worst of the wounds. The mer has remained still the whole time.

Jim hesitates before bringing his hands up to carefully release the muzzle mechanism, bracing himself to fight back if the mer tries to bite him with his razor sharp teeth.

He doesn't. He allows Jim to gently clean the wound on his face before applying ointment and bandaging it. The worn skin of the mer’s face is soft to the touch. Jim hesitates looking at the muzzle before tossing it aside, not putting it back on. “I’m sorry about this,” Jim says, despite knowing it will mean little. “I’m so sorry.”

The mer is silent before it sends a hesitant trill back. Suspicions confirmed, Jim shakes his head. He doesn’t know any Merspeak at all, and the mer probably doesn’t understand what Jim is saying either. Maybe Jim's mom would've understood some of the mer's speech, but she's not here. Never will be again.

Jim drains the tank water to refill it with clean ocean water, not wanting the mer to sit in his own blood. The mer watches Jim the entire time as Jim refills the tank. Before Jim reorganizes his supplies and turns to leave, he catches the sight of the mer twisting his wrists and tail inside the heavy shackles again.

“Jim! My dear, dear boy,” Mudd greets cheerfully, but there is a hint of warning glinting in his eyes “You’re late. I do hope you are aware.”

Jim slaps down his scant catch of the day on the broad table and glares at Mudd. Mudd raises his eyebrows, appraising the small bundle of wrapped fish. He turns the gaze on Jim.

“It’s all the fish I caught today, Mudd,” Jim says flatly. He’s telling the truth. Jim couldn’t keep anything for dinner tonight.

The businessman absentmindedly fiddles with his typewriter. He clicks his tongue as the typewriter dings and a price is calculated and stamped. “It’s even less than yesterday, lad.” 

Jim mutters, “Why would I lie? It's not like I have room to hide anything on that dingy lifeboat of a fishing vessel.”

Mudd’s finger pauses above a key. His tone drops. “That lifeboat, may I remind you, is a gift that we have generously loaned to you, and it can be reclaimed at any time.” Mudd counts out a couple of thin coins and deposits them into Jim’s palm.

Jim sighs and counts the change before pocketing it. Another couple drops in the vast bucket of debt to be filled.

“Mister Kirk,” Mudd calls as Jim turns to leave. Jim is forced to stop, but he doesn’t turn around. “Jim. Old boy. Nothing escapes me, and don't you forget it. I own this company. I own this entire island. If you’re hiding anything, I _will_ know about it.”

Jim starts walking again.

He pauses as a new mer shipment is carted across his path. There’s no doubt that the mer’s a new capture with the way he fights against the chains and muzzle of the detainment tank. The mer’s scales are still relatively pristine, not plucked and tainted with the oil of human fingers. There’s a fresh gold piercing on his penis.

Jim’s fingers are trembling when he returns to his ship. It’s hard to see with the moon as the only light seeping through the top deck onto the illuminated mer. He is lying against the back of the detainment tank, eyes closed once more. 

Jim sits on the rudimentary staircase, a safe distance from the tank. He needs to let the mer go. He already knows he won’t be able to sell him. He can’t. He wants to sell him but he won’t. And yet, Jim is reluctant to release the handsome mer, as if somehow time would serve to change Jim’s mind. Not to mention he’s wondrous to look at. No wonder humans buy and sell them as if they were mere paintings.

The weight of the coins in Jim’s pocket feels insubstantial like never before.

Jim hauls himself to his feet and goes to the ship’s top deck. He keeps a sharp eye out for other ships in the area as he unfurls the sails, but the waters are relatively empty tonight. Jim guides the ship away from port, watching as the sparkling lights of shore get smaller and smaller. Once he’s decided they are far enough away, Jim approaches the tank.

The mer’s eyes fly open as Jim undoes the first wrist cuff. The mer watches with wide eyes as Jim undoes the other cuff. Then he carefully undoes the shackle around the tail. Jim guides the mer’s arms around his shoulders before slipping his arms under the mer’s back and tail, carefully lifting him from the water while trying to avoid dislodging the bandages still covering his wounds. The mer is incredibly heavy, further weighted down with dripping water.

Jim brings the mer up to the top deck, careful that the mer’s tail doesn’t catch on the trapdoor. “Don’t stay here,” Jim says as he lowers the mer into the ocean. “Get out as fast as you can, alright? Mudd really does have eyes everywhere in these parts. You have to leave now.”

The mer turns his head from the black ocean horizon to Jim, clearly baffled. Jim takes a step back and gestures at the sea beyond. “Go. Leave.”

The mer hesitates a split second longer before he slips under the water, swallowed up by the waves. Jim strains his gaze, but he can’t see where he went.

Jim wishes nothing more than to follow, but he knows the waters further out from these parts are treacherous. Only the newer passenger ships with their sophisticated technologies are able to navigate safely. Jim wouldn’t stand a chance alone.

Jim slowly returns the ship to port before cleaning up for the night. He trods to his quarters onboard, a closet which he had modified into a cramped but liveable space. He deposits his daily pay into his jar of slowly accumulating savings, then toes off his boots and slumps onto his creaky cot. He lets his eyes fall closed and the darkness takes over in an instant.

Jim is feeling especially despondent when he leaves shore before dawn the next day. Despite knowing he had done the right thing, the reality weighs heavily on him that he’d lost a precious chance by letting the mer go.

What's done is done. Jim suppresses a sigh and lets down his net before beginning to neaten up his boat, expecting another slow day. He’s been avoiding looking at the mer detainment tank, but he’ll have to clean it up eventually.

There’s a strange splashing sound nearby. Jim looks over at the ocean and startles at the sight of the beautiful mer, still partially wrapped in some of Jim’s bandages.

Jim frantically waves his hands, hoping the mer would understand and move away from the net, but if anything, the mer swims closer before ducking under the surface. Jim waits with held breath, but nothing happens. The sparkle of vibrant fins appears on the other side of the boat. The mer flips his tail almost lazily before continuing a path of slow circles around the boat.

Then the mer shoots forward. Jim gasps as a silver fish flails out of the water. Then another. A swirl of a school of fish gleams under the waves. The boat tilts ever so slightly, and it dawns on Jim that the mer is herding the fish into the net. 

Jim hauls up the net filled with fat fish, still in complete awe. The day goes on like that, with the mer accompanying Jim as he casts his net, over and over.

Jim hauls his net up for the last time right before the sun sets. He'll have enough to eat dinner tonight. “Thank you,” Jim whispers. “Wait - here.” Jim picks out a couple of the plump fish flapping in the net and navigates to the side of the boat where the mer is watching. He lowers the fish in the direction of the mer.

The mer darts effortlessly through the water, catching one of the fish before it can escape. He returns it over the side of the boat with a flick of his tail.

“No, it’s for you. Take it.” Jim makes a bigger show of offering the fish to the mer before tossing it towards him again.

The mer disappears under the water. When he surfaces this time, he is holding the flapping fish between his teeth. Jim leans on the railing, his smile helplessly bright. The mer blinks twice before leaving again.

The days pass like that, with the mer following Jim out in open water before assisting him in catching his required fill for Mudd for the day. It’s an incredible feeling knowing how close the creature is to Jim. However, he doesn't attempt to try touching the mer, who likewise maintains a moderate distance.

Jim feels his heart in his throat every night from how nervous he is when he brings his newfound abundance to Mudd, but Mudd never gives any indication that he suspects anything is off.

Jim’s hawkish attention to the horizon relaxes as the weeks pass. On the days they finish Jim’s required daily catch early, Jim removes his gear and relaxes in the sunlight as he watches the mer navigate through the waters with barely a ripple. It’s peaceful. Perfection. Jim’s savings are finally accumulating, and at a rapid rate. It’s going to work out. He’s going to finally escape this hellish island.

And then Jim pays for neglecting to stay vigilant.

He doesn’t notice the growing speck in the distance until it’s too late. The mer freezes and angles his back towards Jim's ship. Jim frowns. “What?” And then he sees it.

Jim’s blood runs cold as he swivels to look behind him - sure enough, another boat heading their direction. Jim doesn’t know if they’ve seen the mer yet or not.

“Fuck, fuck fuck.” Jim flaps his hands at the mer, shaking his head frantically. “You have to go! Please!”

The mer clicks and cautiously approaches Jim. He is holding out a hand.

Jim is torn. It would be completely insane to voluntarily get into the water with a mer superior in strength and swimming ability. Jim’s no stranger to the news of drownings in this area. He's witnessed scars of mer bites, savage and deep. Can he trust this mer over Mudd’s people? 

A laugh escapes Jim. “Gods, this is crazy.”

“Kirk,” someone bellows from an approaching ship.

Jim turns back to the mer. “Get out of here!” But the mer stubbornly stays put, still extending a hand to Jim. Jim grits his teeth and dashes to the mast where the emergency pistol is hidden. As the two ships close in with their broad mer nets, Jim fires once at the mer. The ricochet is deafening.

Jim didn’t aim anywhere near the mer, but the sentiment was expressed well enough. The last thing Jim sees before the mer dives is the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. 

“You idiot,” Mudd bellows. Jim lets the pistol fall to the floor. A thin bridge is slamming onto his deck, and then Mudd is in Jim's face. “Idiot! I can’t believe you let it get away!”

Jim feels as if everything is very distant. The only thing he can cling onto is the stinging relief that the beautiful mer escaped Mudd.

“My boat and all the possessions in it? Confiscated.” Mudd shoves Jim towards the bridge as another sailor jumps onto Jim’s ship. The image of Jim’s savings jar flashes in his mind. 

“No,” Jim snaps, lunging towards the back of the ship. He’s immediately snatched by two other sailors. Jim struggles to break free to no avail.

Mudd shakes his head slowly. “My dear boy, I do wish it didn’t have to come to this.” Jim glares as Mudd checks his golden pocket watch, more a show of excess than concern for anything of the present. “You start work in the processing factory tomorrow. Don’t test my patience, lad.”

Jim doesn’t sleep that night. He’s been offered a cot in the factory dormitories, but he refuses to go inside. He knows when he goes in, he’ll never come back out. 

Jim wanders the piers, only somewhat focused on the sights around him. There are dark clouds gathering above, obscuring the moonlight. An incoming storm. Jim finds himself at a familiar pier, at a familiar rickety boat. He looks around before carefully boarding. He already knows the jar and his other precious belongings have long been cleared out, but it aches severely seeing everything gone. He finds himself wandering down to look at the mer detainment tank. Somehow it looks more cruel when it’s empty, with its muzzle and chains.

There’s a soft trill that seeps through the sides of the boat. Jim freezes. The trill turns into gentle clicks. Jim sprints to the top deck and stares down at the mer, who waits expectantly next to the hull.

“What the hell are you doing here,” Jim hisses, even as his throat swells with tender affection for this strange mer that insists on caring for him to the bitter end, even after being threatened with a gun. The mer clicks and moves further towards open water. He gestures to the boat and waves at Jim. The sky above is growing darker, and Jim feels a droplet on his eyebrow. The wind is blowing at an incredible rate.

Jim's breath shudders. His body moves instinctively, it knows what to do better than him. Jim hears a shout as he raises the anchor. He ignores it. He maneuvers the boat to follow the mer out of port as the rain begins to pound down. He doesn't look back.

Jim's no stranger to navigating in a squall, but he hates how the waves rise to swamp his ship, how there is now no guarantee of a safe return to shore. The storm sails strain to break free from their rails. Jim wipes water from his eyes as he steers, desperate to avoid rolling the boat over. Distantly, Jim marvels at how he can still see the mer darting ahead of him, leading the way through the wet, cold treachery. It's becoming harder to see him, as bright as the mer is in the dim waters. A large wave knocks Jim off balance, and he struggles to regain footing. 

Jim yelps as another wave nearly sends the boat pitching forwards. He loses his grip, and then is surrounded by air. The salt water feels heavy and cold as it engulfs him.

Suddenly burning hot arms are wrapped around him, pulling Jim through the water. Jim gasps as he breaks the surface, clinging to the mer’s broad shoulders. This time, he’s prepared for the next wave that overwhelms them.

This process repeats, of going in and out of the towering waves as the rain beats down. Jim has held on this long, and he feels the intensity of the storm gradually beginning to diminish, but he is too exhausted to even lift his head from the mer’s shoulder keeping him above the surface of the water. He can feel the mer swimming at a steady pace, water moving around them. He has no clue where they’re going, or how far away from shore they’ve come. The rain slows to a drizzle, but the wind is still severe.

Jim feels the exhaustion that he has kept at bay creeping up on him. There's nothing to stop the mer from drowning Jim now while he's helpless. His life is completely in the mer’s hands.

The last sensation Jim registers before he passes out is the mer clutching him tighter to his shoulder.

Jim startles awake to brilliant sunshine and the slow drag of limbs in water. The mer clicks at Jim. He’s still cradling Jim in his arms and swimming powerfully, leaving a gentle wake in their path. Jim wonders if the mer has slept at all.

Jim turns to scan the horizons and his face falls a little when he realizes he can’t see any land masses anywhere. He turns his attention to the mer, wrapping his arms more securely around the mer’s shoulders. The mer’s wounds have healed faster than a human's, but there's still a particularly nasty wound on his arm. Jim sighs. “I could’ve rebandaged that for you.”

The mer's swimming slows to a halt as Jim’s hand grazes against the bandage. Jim dares to snuggle closer, to press his head against the mer’s shoulder and neck. One of the mer’s hands comes up to lovingly stroke the wet strands of hair from Jim’s forehead, then it slips down to explores Jim's back, stroking up and down the expanse of skin under the wet shirt. Jim remains patiently still the entire time.

The mer draws back a little, clicking at Jim. He holds up two extended fingers. Jim furrows his brow and mimics the gesture. The mer touches his two fingers between Jim's lips, encouraging them apart. Jim tastes bitter salt as the mer slips his fingers to rest above Jim's tongue. Then the mer guides Jim's hand towards his own mouth.

Jim resists, thinking of those sharp fangs. The mer trills and gestures with his free hand towards his mouth and Jim’s. Jim inhales and dares to slide his two fingers into the mer's open mouth. It feels much like a human's, except for the cool temperature.

Suddenly there's a splitting pain inside Jim's head. It feels like the worst burn he’s felt in his life, right in the middle of his skull. Jim shoves the mer away, panting and gasping. The overwhelming sensation instantly dissipates. The mer tries to move closer, and Jim shies away. The mer is holding out his two fingers again, clicking incessantly.

Jim grits his teeth. He acquiesces to the mer slipping his fingers inside his own mouth, and reluctantly returns his two fingers to the mer's mouth. A brief moment passes before Jim gets burnt again.

Jim yelps and recoils. “What do you want?” Jim demands. The mer looks worried, but he continues to hold out his fingers as he trills. Jim shakes his head. “It hurts. No. I said no.” The mer doesn't push, but he also refuses to back down. Jim makes a noise of frustration. It’s not like he can tread water forever. He slowly swims back into the mer’s arms. 

Jim braces himself this time, and is marginally more prepared when the pain hits. He wants to scream, but he just clenches to the mer's shoulders like a lifeline. 

And then the pain is replaced by an odd sensation of something slipping inside Jim. It feels like something slotting into place that had always been left incomplete. He can feel, can understand the mer's thoughts that transcend the barriers of language, he feels warmth and wonder and awe.

_Our meld is successful. I can hardly believe it._

Jim feels his heart leap in his chest. _Oh gods. What the fuck. Is that you? Can you hear me?_

_Indeed. And you are able to hear me?_

_Yes! Hi! Hello, I'm Jim!_

_Jim._ The mer looks thoroughly amused. _Hello, Jim. I am Spock._

_Spock - what the fuck, how - how are we communicating?_

Spock slips his hands from Jim’s mouth and splays the fingers across one side of his face. Their connection stays sturdy. _All mer can engage in some degree of touch telepathy. I apologize for the discomfort of the initial penetration of our meld._

 _Penetration?_ The unfiltered thoughts of Jim’s mind spiral. _It’s like sex? Gods, did you just take my mind meld virginity?_

A thin blush spreads across the mer’s cheeks. _I apologize, I attempted to be as gentle as possible. To engage in a meld is difficult for non-psi individuals, but I deemed it necessary given our circumstances. The pain should not be recurring._

 _That's good to know._ For a moment Jim is lost in the warmth of Spock's calm mind, in his care in navigating their connection. It feels like the most secure embrace he has ever been enveloped in.

Spock’s radiant expression becomes subdued. _Jim - I still do not understand. Why did you choose not to sell my body?_

Jim’s throat is tight. _I’m sorry, Spock. I really thought of doing it._

_But you didn’t._

_No. In the end, there was no way I was selling anyone to become someone’s exotic sex doll, even a mer._

_Then what was it that conflicted you?_

Spock's eyes widen as Jim's despair mounts. Jim can't hold anything back inside their minds. _I’m so desperate to leave here, Spock. My parents and I came here before the place turned into a black market hotspot for trafficking mer. They died with debt to pay back to the stupid island kingpin, and I’ve been trying to save up on my own to escape ever since._

 _Oh, Jim. I grieve with thee._ Spock frowns and glances at the horizon around them. _I have known these parts for a long time. It is indeed a very remote island._ Jim removes his hand from Spock’s mouth and leans further into his support. Spock is moving them again through the ocean waters.

 _I know of a human country not far from here. I will assist you in reaching the destination._

“Assist, my ass. You’ve been doing all the work here.”

Jim hears Spock’s amusement through their connection and his chest tingles. 

They stop once for a brief break. Jim watches Spock skillfully attack a school of fish and neatly catch one. He offers some of the raw fish to Jim, who gratefully accepts. 

Jim ends up falling asleep on Spock again, but this time, he can feel the pulsing reassurance from his connection to the mer’s mind, and it is easy to relax. This time when he wakes up, Spock has stopped swimming. The sky is dim, but Jim and Spock are illuminated by the faint light of a distant oceanfront town.

 _I was waiting for you to awaken_. Spock loosens his hold on Jim. _The mainland here is well known for its hospitality to humans and mer alike. I believe you will find comfort here._

Jim looks from the sparkling lights to Spock. “What about you?”

Spock gazes at the deepening darkness of the ocean. And Jim understands instantly - Spock needs the open feeling of miles of water below and all around. Other mer have encouraged him to settle down, but each time he does, he feels restless for the ocean again.

“Then will I ever see you again?” Jim hates the tremble in his voice, how reluctant he is to let go of Spock again.

Spock presses his lips to the corner of Jim’s mouth in a surprisingly human gesture, holding them there for a moment too long before pulling away. Jim opens his mouth to say something, but Spock has already disappeared underwater with a flick of his tail.

Spock was telling the truth. The oceanside village is a curious one, with well engineered canals for mer and humans to thrive together. There are many humans that are fluent in Merspeak, and mer that can speak words as clearly as a human.

Jim finds work and a place to sleep immediately. He utilizes his skills in boat rigging to assist a master craftswoman in her shipbuilding harbor. The craftswoman is pleased by Jim’s dutiful work and accepts him as an apprentice. With their combined efforts the company expands twofold and shows no signs of stopping. When the storms come, Jim is safely indoors, not miserable in the cold and wet trying to capture one last load of fish for Mudd.

Something feels as if it is missing. Jim attempts at a new relationship with someone he meets in the local bar, hoping it would be the solution. The romance is short-lived and Jim is left alone once more without regret. Jim keeps returning to the ocean, standing a safe distance from the lapping waves and straining his gaze out whether it be sunny or cloudy. Sometimes he will wander the sidewalks next to the canals and ask other mer if they have heard of a blue and red finned mer called Spock. No one appears to know who he is.

It’s when Jim is absentmindedly perusing through blueprints of hardier ships meant to be out at sea for lengthier periods of time that he comes to a realization of what he must do. When Jim turns around to look for the craftswoman, she’s already standing behind Jim. Jim clutches the blueprints, suddenly at a loss for words.

The craftsman hands Jim a hammer. “I’ve seen the way you watch the waters, Kirk. You’ve done your part for me. Build her and she’s yours.”

Jim begins manufacturing that night. He must tend to his duties as an apprentice first, which draws out the process of building his new ship. A great deal of time has passed. Jim wonders if Spock has already moved on to another part of the world. Would he even still remember Jim? If Jim focuses, he can recall the sensation of the mer’s mental link to him, and the comfort Jim drew from it. Surely Spock wouldn’t have forgotten Jim and the experience they shared.

On a rare night of reprieve, Jim takes a walk away from the shipyard to sit at the beach nearby, watching the pink sunset color the water. There’s a mer family in the distance playing in the waves, and a human girl talking with another mer her age as their parents look on. Jim leans his arms on his bent knees, watching the interaction. He almost doesn’t hear the trilling right in front of him. 

It’s a good thing Jim was sitting, he definitely would’ve collapsed at the sight of a familiar mer in the lolling waves, beaming at him. “ _Spock!_ ” Jim trips over sand in his haste to reach him. When Jim falls into Spock’s outstretched hands, he can feel him laughing. Jim presses his face to Spock’s neck, suddenly overwhelmed with affection. “ _Spock._ What are you doing here? I thought you only stayed out in open water.”

_I wanted to see you, Jim._

The frank words have Jim’s face heating up. His clothes are completely drenched but he couldn’t care less. He rubs a thumb near Spock’s healed scar on his arm. “Are you okay? How have you been?”

 _I’ve been well._ Spock runs a hand through Jim’s hair, a comforting gesture. _I and several companions have been investigating the human you call Mudd, and his trafficking circles. We are determined to gather forces to stop him and free the trapped mer._

Jim leans back with wide eyes. “Spock. That’s incredible. Let me help you.” Spock shies away, and Jim frowns. “Spock?”

_That is not what I came here for. You could - could be gravely injured. If our efforts are unsuccessful, you could be trapped under Mudd’s control once more._

“I’m going to help you. I build boats now. Did you know? Once I build mine and gather the finest crew I can find, we’re setting sail.”

Spock flickers between amusement and concern. _Jim. Is this because you feel indebted? You have no obligation to help me._

“That’s not how I see it.” Jim gently touches Spock’s hand and doesn’t miss the small intake of breath that the gesture brings. “Stay a little while. I’d love to show you where I work. When I’m ready, we’ll go back to the ocean together and bring Mudd to justice.”

Spock wraps the end of his tail around Jim’s outstretched leg. _Very well. Do you have anywhere to be?_

“Not now, why?”

Spock rests his head on Jim’s, shifting closer to his body, sharing his warmth as the water rushes in and out around them. _For this moment - it would be nice to remain like this._

Jim chuckles. Spock purrs low in his throat. The background sounds of the others eventually fade as they leave the beach. The sun eventually sets, taking its light and heat with it, but Jim sits next to the warmth and brilliance of Spock and has no intention of leaving anytime soon.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! (or reaching the bottom of the page ^^) I appreciate all kudos and any form of comments! especially the ones w emoji spam 💖💖✨✨
> 
> If you enjoyed this AU fic, [you might like this kirk/spock prime Circus AU, Spock is a gorgeous tightrope walker :D](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515544)


End file.
